Storm Music (1934)

by Dornford Yates

  As though I had told him my plight, I felt Sabre lower his head. Then he moved past the Rolls, led me up a sweet-smelling bank and presently out of the coppice and into the rolling park.

  Chapter 18

  "WHEN the lighth go out," said Dewdrop. "Thath what he thaid."

  "That's right," said Bugle. "That's 'ow we done that villa down in the souf of France. That was a show, that was. You never see such precautions against a poor — — thief: 'ouse like a — prison turned inside out— an' 'alf a packet of candles between two 'undred rooms. Ally Sloper was in that with Pharaoh. I can hear him laughin' now as he opened the garden door. 'Dear brothers,' he says, 'I'm afraid there's some bandits inside. So don't you go for to cross them by showin' a light.' Just as we makes the ballroom, a flunkey comes bustlin' in with a candle in each of his hands. 'All lights out,' says Pharaoh, and shoots him dead. Talk about panic ... We— well helped ourselves."

  "But the stuff was there." said Rush. "That's what gets me. Panic's all right, but we don't know the way to the gold."

  "Pharaoh's fly," said Bugle. "It ain't only the keys you can make wot can open doors."

  There was a little silence.

  The three were sitting in the meadows, just clear of the woods—not between the castle and Starlight, but close to the entrance drive. The lights of Yorick were showing a furlong away.

  I was crouching directly behind them, against the trunk of a tree. Sabre, beside me, was standing still as a rock. I could, I believe, have killed two— perhaps all three. But it was Pharaoh I wanted, and Pharaoh was not there.

  I could not follow their reasoning. Why should the lights go out? In the ordinary way the lights were put out at midnight— perhaps before. But now the case was altered: the drawbridge had to be watched. And then this talk of panic ... Had Pharaoh suborned some servant to do his will?

  Rush lifted his cuff from his wrist. "Twenty past eleven," he said. "Gawd, wot a day."

  "When the lighth go out," said Dewdrop. "Unleth,— of courthe, he thould happen to talk before."

  I felt more confounded than ever. Dewdrop's final sentence did not make sense.

  Rush led me back on to ground on which I could stand.

  "Td like to know where those two — was takin' that — dog."

  "Dogs is all right," said Bugle. "You've only got to face 'em and put out yer 'and."

  "You bet," said Rush, warmly. "Besides, I don't fancy Alsashuns: they aren't no better than wolves. But that ain't the point. I'd like to know wot they're up to: they haven't come back."

  "We've left no trail." said Bugle. "We never got out of the car."

  "We're out of it now," said Rush. "An' I don't want no more surprises not after las' night."

  Dewdrop shifted uneasily.

  "Ith very awkward," he said, "your lothin' that car. Pharaoh won't like that, he won't."

  "Well, he'll have to lump it," said Rush. "By—, I wish he'd been there. I tell you. I never saw nothing: there weren't no scrap. We don't even know who took it. Some — performin' goriller, if you ask me. An' wot 'arm 'ad I done the —? Pharaoh won't like it, won't he? 'Ow would he like to be wiped off one of them benches on to them flags? Backwards, too. I dunno why I'm not dead. An' you talk about losing the car."

  "It wasn't our fault," said Bugle, "and that's Gawd's truth."

  But Dewdrop had no comfort to offer.

  Like some dreadful bird of ill omen—

  "Ith very awkward," he said.

  There was another silence.

  I was once again out of my depth.

  That the three were waiting for Pharaoh seemed pretty clear. But where was Pharaoh now? And what had Pharaoh been doing since seven o'clock? He had not seen Rush or Bugle, nor had he learned their news. More. While his men had the use of the Rolls, Pharaoh was using his feet. And that was not like Pharaoh ...

  Somewhere in the pile of the castle a new light leaped into life—a definite eye of radiance, unshaded and unconfined. For a moment it stabbed the darkness, a steady pin-prick of light. Then it broke into a series of flashes— a silent luminous stutter that no one could ever mistake.

  And so my eyes were opened. Before his fellows could tell me, I knew the truth.

  Pharaoh was on the ramparts, and Pharaoh was going to "talk." Pharaoh had been in the castle the livelong day. He had never left with Dewdrop. And now he was going to quench the lights of the castle, and when he had put them out he would let his accomplices in.

  Dewdrop deciphered the message, word by word.

  "Clothe-up-to-bridge-thtand-by-to-enter-by-latht-nighth-pothtern-directly-lighth-fail."

  The lamp flashed once more and went out.

  Before I had gathered my wits, the three were afoot.

  TO this day I cannot decide what I should have done. Had I left them and dashed for the castle to give the alarm, before I found the warden the lights would have failed. Had I attacked, whatever the result of my effort, I think it is clear that I must myself have gone down, but Pharaoh would still have been rampant: and Pharaoh was the head of the corner, supporting his own supporters— each one of whom he could replace.

  Wild to exploit the advantage I clearly held, in fear of wasting this by striking too soon, in fear of losing it by holding my hand, I moved ten paces behind the shambling thieves, with one hand on Sabre's collar and the other on Geoffrey's knife.

  They never could have heard me, for Rush and Bugle made enough noise for six: and had they looked back, I am sure they would not have seen me, for I could only see them because they moved between me and the lights of the lodge.

  So far as I had gathered, they knew no more than I did what Pharaoh was going to do. He was going to cut off the light— disable the main switchboard, without a doubt. Then they were to use the postern—

  The vision brought me up with a jerk.

  How could they use the postern? The postern was fast. Pharaoh must have opened it somehow. Unknown to the warden, he must have obtained the key. But how on earth had he done this? And how could he know which key would unlock the postern which he had used last night?

  A sudden apprehension lifted its ugly head. In Pharaoh's presence Helena had handed the warden a master key. That was the key with which Pharaoh had opened the postern: though no alarm had been raised, because nothing was known. Pharaoh had killed the warden and had taken the master key.

  That this was so, I instantly made up my mind. My way at least was clear. The thieves would bring me to Pharaoh and everything was to be gained by my holding my hand.

  And here, as though by magic, the lights of Yorick went out.

  There was now less need of silence and more of speed, for the three rogues ran for the drawbridge as hard as they could. Sabre and I ran behind them, as though we belonged to the crew.

  Over the bridge they clattered and up the sweep to the gate, on to the turf that was growing beneath the ramparts and past the spot at which the Count had rested the night before. Ahead I saw something white by the castle wall. The three turned aside to avoid it, and I did the same. As I went by, I saw that it was a sheet. At that moment Sabre left me—he seemed to stop. But I had no time to wrangle ...

  The postern-door was open. The three stumbled in and stood waiting. And I stood waiting without, with a foot on the step and my head close against the wall.

  If there were sounds in the castle they did not reach my ears, for the rogues were not used to running, and all I could hear was a noisy chorus of breathing, heavy and hoarse.

  So for less than a minute— and then came Pharaoh's voice.

  "Bugle."

  " Ere." said Bugle at once.

  "Don't talk, you —. Whisper. Here. Take these goods ... Have you got them?"

  "I've got a shoe," breathed Bugle

  "Wot's this?"

  "A wipe," said Pharaoh. "To which side of the drive are the cars?"

  "To the right from here."

  "Drop the wipe on the drawbridge: and sling the shoe into the fields to the left of the
drive. If you want to live, make it snappy. They're going to open those gates before you get back."

  As Bugle went by me, I saw that here was a chance which would never return. Pharaoh had used no torch. If Bugle's reminiscence were true, the probability was that he would not use one tonight: I was tall and thickset, very much about Bugle's build—a suit I had left at Plumage was fitting him very well: and Bugle had been told to whisper . . .

  In a flash I was running for the drawbridge in Bugle's wake.

  The castle was alive with murmurs— sounds of disorder and distress; someone was out on the ramparts, raving "To me!" Men were trampling and shouting: I could hear blows falling upon woodwork and the shiver of breaking glass. But I heard these things as in a dream, for now I knew whose key had opened the postern, whose handkerchief would lie on the drawbridge, whose slipper fall in the fields ...

  What then took place happened more swiftly than I can set it down.

  Bugle was on the drawbridge, and I was standing, ready and waiting to kill him, three paces away. I saw the man drop the handkerchief and I saw him draw back his arm to discharge the shoe. It was then that I noticed Sabre—nosing the scrap of linen, white on the bridge ...

  As the shoe left Bugle's hand the Alsatian crouched, and as he turned to come back the great dog sprang.

  The shock would have sent a giant flying, for Sabre weighed fully six stone.

  As Bugle met the rail of the drawbridge I heard a bone snap, and then the two went over, into the moat.

  The splash they made must have been heard, but for the outcry within the castle itself.

  I ran for the postern I heard a hubbub in the archway and Florin's voice calling on Hubert to open the gates.

  As I stumbled into the passage—

  "This is the stuff," breathed Rush. "Up the stairs on yer left. I've got to lock this door."

  It seemed best to do as he said. Pharaoh and Dewdrop were gone. I needed Rush to bring me to where they were.

  Without a word I turned to the steps

  I knew ...

  Chapter 19

  "IF YOU would like assistance, you've only to say the word. We're none of us ladies' maids, but Rush has the reputation of being a ladies' man," said Pharaoh.

  As I came to their head I became aware of a radiance— a faint suggestion of light, enough to outline the doorway that gave to the little hall. Another step, and I heard the drone of a voice.

  I entered the hall a-tiptoe.

  One of its doors was half open— not that of the staircase which led to Helena's room. Beyond this a light was burning, the light of a torch— and an ice cold voice was teaching a bitter sentence to cut like a whetted knife.

  "So you see, there's not much left. Tomorrow morning, no doubt, order will be restored. Very likely the police will arrive. They won't arrive tonight, for the telephone isn't working. I'm afraid I'm to blame for that. The search, which is now proceeding in a somewhat haphazard way, will be organised: clues will be sifted: the abduction will be reconstructed. Your sheets are below the ramparts, so they'll know you were taken that way. Your handkerchief lies on the drawbridge: the slipper which you kicked off will be found in the fields. I expect they'll employ your Alsatian— I'm sure I should. But as I carried you here, I don't think that he will come off. One has to think of these things. Be that as it may, no stone will be left unturned to find the beautiful Countess— you really are lovely, you know— the worshipful mistress of Yorick, that carted her drunken brother out of her way. And all the time you'll be here, sharing this somewhat unfriendly chamber, with me and my friends ... You do see the point, don't you? They won't search the castle, because they'll know for certain we're none of us here. You didn't search it this morning—you knew I was gone. And if they did search the castle, I hardly think Florin would let them look in this room. It's cleverly done, that door. You've got to be curious to find it, and an expert to find its lock. I'm both. I found them on Wednesday evening— with the help of your brother's key. I need hardly say that had I known that the key which you handed the warden was his, and not yours, we should have adjourned to this chamber this morning, instead of tonight. However, all's well that ends well ..."

  A stealthy step behind me remembered Rush.

  As I turned, he was locking the door at the head of the curling stair.

  For a fraction of a second I hesitated. Rush was at my mercy. Was this the time to unmask? And then I decided to stake my winnings once more.

  Rush straightened his back and turned to the half-open door. Then he hung on his heel for an instant, to breathe in my ear.

  "Come on, you old — . I'll give you Pharaoh's a genius. He's got little Sheba cold."

  HERE, since it bears upon my story, I must describe how you entered that secret room.

  This was the way of it.

  In the massive door from the hall the keyhole was set to the right, and when you had turned the key, the iron-studded door opened inwards and so to the left. At once you found yourself at the foot of a staircase-turret, the steps of which rose to the right and, after three or four rises, curled out of your view.

  Now the door was very heavy and, not being truly hung, had to be held open: if it were not so held, it at once swung back to its frame and, since its lock was a springlock, shut itself fast. A catch was therefore provided, to prevent it from playing this trick—the sort of self-acting catch that is used for an entrance gate: and to bring this catch into action you had but to open the door as wide as you could. But by so doing you were masking another door.

  Enter the turret and let the door shut behind you, and there in the wall which the door, when open, had hidden, was another smaller doorway which gave to the secret room. The door which it framed was also of oak and iron, but though it boasted a handle, there was no keyhole at all. It was, in fact, locked by the catch which held open the major door. Turn this catch to one side, and the minor door would swing open without a sound.

  From within the room this door, when shut, could neither be opened nor seen, because it was backed with the woodwork which covered the walls.

  All this, of course, I learned later. All that I knew at the moment was that the door to the room had been "cleverly done."

  Rush whispered over his shoulder:

  "Watch out for this door. It's wedged."

  He sidled round the oak, and I followed, with a hand on my pistol and Geoffrey's knife in my sleeve.

  I shall never forget the scene, which seemed to belong to the dark of the Middle Ages, to the stealth of the Holy Office, to that frightful gallery of horror where the wicked have sat in judgment upon the good.

  Only one torch was alight, and this was so held by Dewdrop that its beam fell on Helena's face. To this the eye naturally turned, and in an instant the rest of the room was black.

  She was sitting upright on a bench, with her back to the panelled wall. The neck of her dress was torn and had fallen from one of her shoulders, leaving this naked except for a pink silk strap. Her eyes were lowered to avoid the glare of the torch, but her beautiful head was high, and for all the emotion she showed she might have been sitting in church. If any thing, her air was listless: she did not seem to be breathing, she sat so still.

  The sight of her captive and desolate hit me hard.

  The beam of the torch was blinding, and I shut my eyes and sank my chin on my chest. I wanted to be able to see where Pharaoh was. Rush was beside me, he had lingered a moment to take up the wedge and to lock the major door, but now he was standing beside me— I could hear the reptile licking his beastly lips. And Dewdrop, a pace or two distant, was holding the torch. But I had not distinguished Pharaoh, and Pharaoh was first on my list. Then the man spoke again, and I knew that he was standing or sitting on the farther side of the room.

  "As always, I'm perfectly frank. My hand is upon the treasure. It's simply a question of testing these walls and this floor. But I can't get it out of the castle— at least, not as much as I want. I don't like to use the drawbridge.
I believe even your bucolics would find that strange. But I know there's another way out. You took it with Mr. Spencer five nights ago."

  There was a little silence. Then: "Go on," said Helena quietly.

  "You will tell me that way," said Pharaoh.

  "And then?"

  "We shall work till dawn, removing as much as we can."

  "And then?"

  "We shall clear up and go," said Pharaoh. "And you will be free. I hardly think you'll want anybody to find us— in possession of so much gold."

  " 'Clear up and go,' " said Helena. "What do you mean by 'clear up'?"

  "I mean what you think I mean. There's a nuisance I've got to abate."

  "If you were honest, you'd say 'a score to settle.' "

  "I prefer the term 'nuisance.' Still, that may have to wait a little. At dawn we shall leave the castle, and you will be free."

  Helena took a deep breath.

  "I see," she said. "And now I'll tell you something. You've got a long way, but a long way is never enough. You know that you're near the gold, but you don't know how to reach it. It's very well to talk of testing these walls and this floor, but that's a job for a mason, and you know it as well as I. But if the gold was here, as you admitted just now, you couldn't get it away. More. So long as you stay here, you're safe, for no one will open this room. But the longer you stay here, the slighter your chance of escape. You've only the Rolls and my men will very soon find that, looking for me. And tomorrow, as you surmise, order will be restored. Quite good order, I warn you: Mr. Bohun will see to that. If you wait till then, therefore, you will have to cut your way out. You'll have no gold to carry, so that should be easy enough: but once you are out you'll have no sort of transport, and the park will be full of my people, looking for me. Of course, as I say, if you stay here, you're perfectly safe. But you've neither food nor water, and nothing that you can think of will make me talk."

  "What, nothing?" said Pharaoh.

  "Nothing," said Helena, calmly. "You've no one here to torture, and I'm not afraid for myself. For the moment I'm up against it: but you are up against time."